Challenge Submission The Last Journey

[The Slime Mother]

One person was a murderer,bound for hell. Two more lovers who commited suicide. A junkie who overdosed. A whole familly,burnt alive from house fire. They were at the end of the line. The rest had long forgotton what they were in life. Even the light of the sun would be forgotton while awaiting the ticket man.

Each person had a small slip of paper,no obvious writing or marking upon it. They held onto the little scraps tightly. The ones who had lost their ticket begged newcomers for theirs. They promised money and fame like it mattered here.

The only thing that mattered was the ticket.

Some people waited just a few hours,their ticket taken by the old man on the boat. Most waited monthes and years. A few unlucky ones waited and still had never been chosen to board the old creakin boat,paddled by a stick of bamboo held by the ticket man.

The water rippled as the boat slowly arrived,poor souls crowding the dock,a few foolish souls wandering into the icy water. The current pulled them under with little fanfare.

The man with his old rain jacket and hat over diseased and maggot ridden skin grinned,rotting lips pulled back over yellowed teeth. People lined up,showing their ticket to him. He would shake his head to deny them. Most threw themselves into the water to disapear. Others simply wandered back to the edge. They would be chosen one day and go wherever the boat went.

For every hundred denials,there was one the ticketman would whispher into their ear and gesture on board. No one spoke about what he said-just another unwritten rule of this limbo. Once he had maybe 20 people,he would wave and step back into the boat and paddle onwards.

The journey on the boat was nearly as bad as waiting,the currents fearsome and little room on the wooden vessel. To look into the waters was to see things that shouldint have existed. Any who did see them usually threw themselves off. That generally eliminated half of the boat. The next half would be picked off by the vultures swooping down for the easy meal.

The remaining people debate-was this their heaven? Or hell? Why would they all receive the same punishment,despite being good people? The religous doubted their faith. Others pleaded and begged for answers from the ticketman,cursing his existance. they would throw themselves off or just give up,the tickets floating on the water.

The ticketman arrived back atthe docks,people clamoring to hear his whispher and ride on the ancient wood.


They do say that madness is repeating the same thing over and ovwr again. Like a child on a carousel,riding round andround but never truly going anywhere.